


His Alone

by FairTradeHoney



Category: Supernatural
Genre: And a little fluff, Bottom Dean, Bunker Sex, M/M, Smut, Wings, but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-23
Updated: 2014-09-23
Packaged: 2018-02-18 13:39:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2350391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FairTradeHoney/pseuds/FairTradeHoney
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Season 9 Canon divergent. Established Dean/Cas. Basically it's bunker sex that's also sentimental.</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Alone

At night, a faint glow illuminates Dean's room in the bunker. The light is soft and subtle, originating from the tiny gaps in the grille at the base of the door, where the ever-running hallway lights infiltrate the still, dark refuge of the bedroom.

Though the gaps are small, the incandescent yellow-orange can't be suppressed and given time, eyes adjust, opening to the not-quite-blackness. Dean appreciates the delicate illumination—enough to see but not to awaken—taking the opportunity to fully examine the man lying next to him.

Cas is naked, splayed out on the bed face down, sated and unconscious. He seems to be glowing, a thin sheen of sweat covering his skin, remnants of the evening's earlier activities, catching the light. 

Dean's eyes wander from the damp curls at the base of Cas' skull down to the soft curve of his neck, then focus on the frame of his shoulders, at once broad and lean, and far less slight than they appear when confined inside any one of Cas' collection of ill-fitting jackets. Dean smiles, knowing that others remain ignorant of the solidity and strength of the body beside him; it's a secret Cas has shared only with him. 

He resists the urge to touch until his eyes land upon the sharp angles of Cas' shoulder blades, where for the first time, he glimpses a small matching pair of scars, about three, four inches long but thin as paper. They're delicate curves, like a pair of inverted parentheses. Dean doesn't know where they're from, but somehow he's certain they're not Jimmy's. 

Unthinking, he reaches out to first trace the left scar, then the right, unintentionally pulling Cas from his slumber. 

"Mmmmhhmm," Cas groans, not quite awake, but no longer asleep either. 

"Baby, what are these?" Dean asks, running his fingertips over the soft, raised skin again. 

The motion rouses Cas further and given the hitch in Cas’ breath as he speaks Dean is pretty sure it's a turn on. "Wings," he says, and Dean feels foolish for not realizing. 

"Did it hurt?" Dean asks, continuing to caress the delicate scars.

There’s a brief pause, as if Cas is searching for the memory. "When I lost them, yes, but not anymore. Now," Cas breathes, arching his back, greedy for Dean's touch, "it feels…different." 

Dean smiles and sits up, throwing his leg over Cas so that he's straddling him just above his hips, as if to give him a back massage. Instead of gripping Cas' shoulders, Dean takes his thumbs and traces the scars with slightly more pressure than before. Cas moans sinfully, and Dean leans forward, pressing his lips to the warm skin at Cas' neck, breathing, "Do you like the way that feels, baby?"

Cas responds with his entire body: his flesh breaks out in goosebumps, his hands grip the sheets, his feet clench reflexively, and his hips roll forward, rutting into the mattress. "Yes, Dean—oh, yes" he gasps, his breath quickened. 

Dean places a soft kiss at the base of Cas' neck, then moves down, decorating his neck, shoulders, and back with kisses every inch or so, as Cas continues to writhe on the mattress, shivering each time Dean’s lips make contact with his skin. When Dean makes his way to the newly discovered place between Cas' shoulder blades, he presses his lips to each scar gently. Cas curves towards him, his body yearning, craving additional contact. Dean grins, running his tongue along each scar, tracing slowly from bottom to top, and Cas moans his pleasure into the mattress. Dean moves to repeat the motion, but he blows a smooth stream of air across Cas' dampened skin.

The cold of Dean's breath makes Cas' breath catch; it's more than his sensitive skin can handle. Cas flips over, Dean still straddling his hips, and pulls Dean in for a long, rough kiss. He grips Dean by the hair, pushing his tongue past Dean's lips forcefully. Dean's eager lips respond in kind. He groans into Cas' mouth, miraculously not breaking contact as Cas rolls his hips upwards, rubbing his length against Dean's own hardening cock.

A few moments later Dean manages to pull away from the kiss. Cas is immediately frustrated, his hands reaching out to tug him back in, to touch him more, but Dean just smirks. "What do you want, baby?"

"You, Dean. I want you."

"And how do you want me?"

Cas sees where this is going. He understands this game; he knows it’s incredibly arousing, but he's not sure how much of it he can take. "I want you NOW."

"Now, huh? That's good, baby, but it’s not really what I was going for. I think you may need to be more specific," Dean teases, inching slightly farther away.

Clearly frustrated, Cas tries to regain control by reaching out and stroking Dean's cock. Dean grins and playfully swats his hand away, "Oh no, babe. Not just yet." 

Cas actually whines, “Dean.”

"You don't touch me, you don't touch yourself." Dean takes Cas' hands in his own, placing them along his thighs so that Cas is gripping Dean’s quads. "For now you just keep 'em right here." 

Cas complies, but he isn't overly happy about it. He drinks in the sight of Dean, the light from the hallway creating a faint golden aura that seems to radiate from his skin. Dean is absolutely gorgeous, and while the green in his eyes is currently indiscernible, the lust is certainly not.

Dean reaches over and grabs the lube from the nightstand, then looks directly at Cas while he generously coats his fingers. Cas is hungry, downright starving. Seeing how much he wants him, Dean almost breaks, but watching Cas squirm is too much fun and he’s determined to savor the moment. 

“Do you want to touch me?” Dean asks, as he reaches behind and slowly teases himself. Without breaking eye contact, he runs his finger over his opening, sliding one knuckle in, then two. Dean slides back onto his finger and rocks, up and down, his movements glacially slow.

Then Dean bites his lip and Cas nearly loses it. "C'mon Dean. Please."

Dean smirks. "You wish that was you, baby? Do you want it to be you inside me instead?"

Cas doesn't respond, but he doesn't need to. The look on his face—like he can’t decide if he should fuck Dean or throttle him—speaks for itself. 

Dean smirks, adds another finger, the additional pressure making him gasp. "Oh yeah, baby. I can imagine it. Can you? I’m riding you, you’re filling me up so good." He fucks his fingers harder, but still incredibly slowly, stretching himself open. "Mmmm…it's gonna feel so great, babe." 

Cas, who has hardly been articulate up to this point, can now only groan, his fingers digging into Dean’s thighs as his cock twitches, leaking precome onto his stomach.

Dean blinks as he adds a third finger, barely managing to suppress his own groan. The tightness feels unbelievably good and he knows he's not going to be able to hold out very long. He rides his fingers harder, starting to speed up slightly and reaches down with his other hand to stroke Cas.

Cas lets out a breath, delirious at being touched. His ass clenches and his back arches as he thrusts into Dean's fist. Cas is so eager, so ready, and so goddamn beautiful that Dean can't wait any more. He grabs the lube again and preps Cas. 

“Don’t move, baby. I want you to keep still.” Then Dean lowers himself, slowly, one agonizing millimeter at a time onto Cas' trembling cock. 

Cas has been aching for so long that it takes him every ounce of self-control not to slam into Dean, but he manages to keep his ass firmly planted in the mattress. His hands creep up, though, grabbing Dean’s waist, encouraging him to move, and Dean is happy to oblige. Dean rotates his hips, rolling forward and down at the same time, utterly blissed out at the drag of Cas’ cock inside him. 

“Mmmm, baby, you feel so good, so big,” Dean purrs, in a voice so lascivious that Cas fears he might come right then and there.

Dean’s hips continue to roll up and down, slow and deliberate, his eyes locked on Cas’, whose hands slide around, squeezing his ass, urging his movements. When Cas licks his lips, his pink tongue dragging slowly across his bottom lip, it’s Dean’s turn to nearly lose it. He picks up the pace, moving faster, ramming himself harder down onto Cas’ cock. 

With the increase in speed, Cas can’t keep his hips still any longer. He thrusts upward, meeting each downward roll of Dean’s hips, but it's not enough. “Faster, Dean. Harder,” he pants. 

They move together in concert, finding a rough but steady rhythm, the slap of flesh on flesh accompanied by Dean’s irregular moans, “Oh yes…baby…yes…so…fucking…good.” 

As Dean slams down onto Cas, his own cock bobs up and down, anxious for attention. Cas reaches out and thumbs the tip, spreading precome down the head. Dean hisses at the touch, and Cas grins.

Cas slides his hand down Dean’s shaft, stroking harder, faster, matching time with Dean’s own movements and Dean throws his head back, breaking eye contact for the first time, yelping with pleasure. “Oh, Cas. Fuck me, baby. Fuuuuuck. Oh god. God.” 

Cas speeds up his strokes and increases the strength of his thrusts, pounding into Dean. He’s getting close, and based on the sharpness and frequency of his moans, Dean is, also. As the pressure builds, Cas’ movements become erratic and sloppy, increasingly desperate. 

Cas comes first, but just barely. His cock pulses as he spills into Dean, and for a moment he thinks the roof has blown off the bunker. The dull illumination of the room is gone, replaced with pitch black punctuated by tiny coronas of white light. As Cas comes down and the stars fade, Dean lets out a growl, emanating from deep in his gut, spraying hot, white come all over Cas’ chest.

Dean stares at Cas with heavy-lidded eyes; his breath is sharp and ragged, his body utterly spent. Cas slides his hands up Dean’s back, his fingers curling over the tops of Dean’s shoulders, and pulls him in for a deep, deliberate kiss. Dean moans gently, savoring the warm, salty taste of Cas' lips. 

When they finally break apart, breathless, Dean collapses on the bed next to Cas, his arms reaching out haphazardly for a towel or something to clean up the mess. He settles for the sheet bunched at his feet, and lazily tries to wipe himself and Cas clean, but Cas is disinterested, rolling onto his side and pulling Dean towards him, pressing soft kisses to his lips, his cheeks, and his eyelids, finally resting his forehead against Dean's. Within moments, he's asleep. 

Once again bathed in pale golden light, Dean reflects that, wings or no, he’d be hard pressed to think of a time when Cas looked more angelic. 

Lulled by the gentle rhythm of Cas breathing, Dean absent-mindedly runs his fingertips up Cas' arms, around his shoulders, and down the taut planes of his back. This time he avoids the scars, but he files this information away, one more piece of Cas that belongs to him alone.


End file.
